Page 62 of Craving the Player

She’ssilent for afew seconds, but the arm laying across my chest tightens. “They want me to move across the country.”

“Across the country?” Imutter. Fear spears my insides before collaring my throat, squeezing and squeezing and squeezing.

“The promotion is for ajob in Toronto. The company is expanding. Iwould be going with asmall team.”

The hand Ihave on her waist slacks, falling to the bed as my muscles coil, like they want me to jump from the bed and run. But my limbs are too heavy. The thought of leaving right now and not knowing if she’ll be here when Iget back makes me gnash my teeth together.

The weight of her admission falls heavier than it would have had my father not been leaving too. Toronto, Toronto, Toronto. Everything is about fucking Toronto. What acoincidence.

Ifeel betrayed, even though Ihave no right to feel this way. There’ssomething much deeper, more unforgiving that flares under my skin and sizzles in my veins, boiling my blood. Abandonment. Afeeling that Iburied along time ago, back when my parents decided that Iwasn’tenough to heal the broken bridge between them. Afeeling that severed my relationship with my mother for years, and still crackles in the air when adisagreement gets abit too loud and out of hand.

Ayoung boy can’teven begin to understand how fractured and broken amarriage has to be for vows to be broken and asingle piece of paper to be signed. All of the shouting and the screaming doesn’tmake sense. The countless nights spent at ahouse that’snot his, just so that he can escape the angry voices don’t, make, sense.

All it takes is for those memories to come swinging back for me to roll out from under Sierra and sit on the edge of the bed, my back to her. “Toronto is shit,” is my only reply. The words are rough and emotionless.

“Wow, thank you for your helpful input.” Ican hear her moving around on the bed. “Idon’tknow why you bothered asking if you were just going to be adick about it.”

“Give me abreak.” Ilaugh humourlessly, the sound far angrier than Iexpected. “What do you want me to say? Break aleg? Enjoy the weather?”

She inhales sharply before Ihear her feet hit the ground and begin stomping around the floor. “Idon’tknow what your deal is, Braden. You asked and Ianswered. You’re being ridiculous.”

“When are you going?” Igrind out, staring at my bedroom door as Idebate storming out like achild.

“Afew weeks maybe. Inever really stayed around to listen to the fine details, in case you forgot.”

The only words that register in my mind are the first three.

Afew weeks. Afew fucking weeks.

That’sall Ihave left.

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